


Hide and Seek

by dasyuridae



Series: Quoll's Lyric Fics [2]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Drabbles, F/F, M/M, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-07
Updated: 2015-04-07
Packaged: 2018-03-21 17:16:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3700580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dasyuridae/pseuds/dasyuridae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A fic about a wedding</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hide and Seek

**Author's Note:**

> This is a songfic for Flip Grater's song [ Hide and Seek ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=d5TIaEKVPaw) which is a really cool song by a really cool singer who you should definitely check out. Kinda a change of writing style for me? Who knows. Enjoy!  
> -Quoll

_Lipstick is only good for marking lovers_

He’d been warned about him. Warned about perfectly scruffy hair and a smile that could will a shark to bed. About hundreds of people, each one thinking they were special. But he hadn’t listened of course. So now here he was, scruffy dress shirt tight around his neck, talking to the man himself.

He was watching the dancers with an interested smirk. “How’re you enjoying the wedding?”  
Kenma followed his gaze, watching the revolving circles of people as they danced to a melancholic tango. “It’s nice.”  
“Says the guy standing by himself next to the macarons.”  
“They’re salted caramel.” hissed Kenma, in his defence.  
Kuroo just chuckled, taking another sip of his wine. His eyes were filled with something the shorter man couldn’t identify. Whatever it was, it didn’t match his easy smile.  
“I’m Kenma.” said the blond suddenly. There was no way he was getting out of this without finding out why the infamous Kuroo looked like he was pining for the people who were dancing.  
“Nice to meet you. I’m Kuroo.”  
“I know.” said Kenma, fiddling with a strand of blond dyed hair. “The infamous lady killer. And man killer.”  
“I see my reputation precedes me.” Kuroo sounded bitter. For only a second, his smirk was replaced by a sneer. Kenma stared at him. There was definitely something else in his eyes now, a sharp spike of self-deprecation. They stood in silence for a while, Kuroo drinking his wine and Kenma nibbling on a macaron. Kuroo turned to the smaller man, smiling. “Dance with me?”

_Acting is only good for selling lies_

“Just for tonight.” murmured Hinata. “Please?”  
Kageyama fiddled with his fingers. “I don’t understand.”  
“It’s a wedding! Stop distancing yourself from people, just for this.”  
“I don’t distance myself from people.” He glared at Hinata, and was promptly ignored.  
“Protecting yourself, then. “  
“I don’t-“  
“It took two years for you to call me a friend and another two for you to even begin to admit to liking me.” Hinata glanced down at the glass he was holding, swirling the liquid inside around. “Tonight when I talk to people, I want you to talk with me.”  
Kageyama ran a hand through his hair.  
Hinata smiled gently. “It’s a time for celebration! Let your hair down, dance a bit, smile! Actually on second thought, don’t smile. You’ll scare everyone off.”  
Kageyama glared at him and the other man laughed. “I just have your best interests at heart.” he said, standing up and holding out a hand. “Dance with me?” The black haired man stared at him, his orange hair framed by the golden light from the fairy lights. For a second he took in the music playing in the background, a deep, sad tango. Then, with a sigh of letting go, he took his boyfriend’s hand.

_Falling is the only way to get high_

Tsukishima puffed out another lungful of smoke, watching it curl lazily into the air. Muffled music came from inside, and he found himself tapping his fingers to the beat, cigarette curled in his hand. For a second the noise got louder and he heard the door slip closed. A moment later someone slipped onto the bench he was on, sitting awkwardly next to him. A minute or two passed, the only sound that of their breathing, and the faint music. Finally the man next to him coughed gently, then started talking. “How do you know the couple?” he asked, smiling nervously.  
Tsukishima took in his freckle spotted face and his longish brown hair. “Work.” he grunted.  
“Ah!” said the other man, looking up to the sky. “I’m Yamaguchi.”  
“Tsukishima.” Another drag from the cigarette, another coil of smoke. There was silence again. The song inside switched from a pop number with heavy bass to something harder to hear. Two people tumbled out of the door, stumbling with drunken giggles over the grassy lawn.  
“It’s a nice wedding.”  
“Mm.”  
An owl hooted somewhere. Yamaguchi looked at his companion out of the corner of his eye, his thick framed glasses blocking any view of his eyes from the side. “It seems crazy. People are getting married. I thought we’d be too young.”  
Tsukishima turned to him, levelling a steady gaze. “They’re in love, I guess.”  
The shorter man smiled. “Love. It’s an odd concept.”  
A small pause, followed by another puff of the cigarette. “Yeah.”  
There was silence. More breathing. “I’m going to go dance.” said Yamaguchi, standing up and waving goodbye.  
“See ya.” Tsukishima nodded, watching as he made his way back inside. “Hmph.” he muttered, dropping his cigarette into the ash tray on the bench arm. “Pathetic.”

_The mind’s the only place to hide_

 

_Lipstick is only good for marking lovers_

Kenma could feel Kuroo’s hands in his own as they slowly revolved around the floor, the taller man grinning. “Having fun, Pudding-head?” he asked.  
It was hard to admit, but the answer was probably yes. A large part of Kenma’s fear of situations like this was that he wouldn’t know what to do, but he could feel Kuroo’s experience in the way he moved his feet. He shrugged noncommittally.  
Kuroo laughed, just as the song ended. It changed to an upbeat J-pop song and he let go of Kenma’s hands, pulling away. Kenma took in a sharp intake of breath. He wouldn’t be able to dance, not alone. So he just stood there, watching as Kuroo began to move. He forgot the swirls of people around him, forgot the sharp taste of anxiety in his mouth. He was beautiful, in a predatory way. And it came back to him, the warning. This must have been what they meant. There was something about Kuroo, something about him that people couldn’t resist. And that look in his eyes. The look that wished, desperately, for him to be resistible. A part of him that rebelled against his own promiscuity. But it just made it worse.  
So when they left the dance floor and stood smiling off to the side, Kenma knew he couldn’t say anything. Instead he poured himself another champagne and they stood together, happy in their silence.

_Water is the only way to get dry_

“Come on Iwa-chan!” whined Oikawa, waving a bottle of beer in his face.  
Iwaizumi crossed his arms angrily. “No.”  
“Why not?”  
“I don’t drink.”  
“Yeah, but why not?”  
He sighed, taking another sip from his bottle of water. “I don’t want to.”  
“But it’s so gooood!” said Oikawa, pouting.  
“Not really.”  
“Yes really! It’s a wedding! Get drunk, go crazy, kiss some random girl, wake up the next morning in someone else’s bed, find out you’re a father, have to move out of the country!”  
Iwaizumi stared at him. “Has that happened to you?”  
“No, but it could!”  
Iwaizumi sighed. “It’s because…” He paused, and breathed in. Breathed in Oikawa’s hair, his eyes, his stupid beautiful hands, his ingratiating smile, his mouth, his dumb pout, his perfectly shapely face, every part of him that the fangirls loved and every part that only he knew about, his fears and his secrets and the things that left him crying at two in the morning. He breathed out, a short puff of air. “I get addicted to things too easily.”

_Creation’s the only way to never die_

Yachi nibbled on her lower lip, eyes darting around the dance hall. Weddings stressed her out. To be honest a lot of things stressed her out, but especially weddings. They made her think about growing up. About finding someone and settling down and then having a job and working for the rest of your life and then dying. And settling into a routine and never getting out.  
She tasted the sharp tang of blood and raised her hand to her lips. She was bleeding. Shit. Breathing raggedly she made her way to a chair, sitting down and putting her face in her hands. The music seemed to worm its way into her ears, a welcome distraction. After a while of mumbling along she heard a noise beside her as someone sat down. Cautiously Yachi raised her head and looked at the newcomer, a beautiful black haired woman. She was looking worriedly at the blonde woman over the top of her glasses.  
“Are you okay?” she asked carefully, in a soft voice.  
Yachi nodded. “Y-yeah. Just thinking about stuff like wow people are getting married ya know? And next they’ll be having children and settling down and then after that there’s just… not much else except dying and I don’t want to think about dying and...” She choked up.   
The black haired woman smiled cautiously at her. “There’s a long way to go yet.”  
Yachi nodded. “I know. I’m silly.”  
“No I understand. I’m Kiyoko by the way.”  
“Yachi.”  
And when, hours later, Yachi finally left the building, she looked down at the number scrawled on her hand and smiled. Kiyoko was right. There was plenty of time yet.

_The mind’s the only place to hide_

 

_Dancing’s only good for touching strangers_

“Why isn’t the best man on the dance floor?” said a voice, lower down than Asahi was used to. He looked downwards nervously and was greeted by a blinding grin.  
“I-I don’t like dancing.” he stuttered.  
There was a pause, filled with shuffling feet and low music. “Really?”  
“Too many p-people.” murmured Asahi.  
The smaller man narrowed his eyes. “Got it. You should still talk to me though. I can live without dancing.”  
Asahi laughed, nervously. “I wouldn’t like you to die because I kept you off the dance floor.”  
There was a pause, then the small guy burst out in raucous laughter. “I’m honoured!” Asahi looked at him closer, taking in the spiked brown hair and blond streak, the hoop earring in right ear. The mischievous glimmer in his eyes and the way his teeth flashed brightly. “Nishinoya Yuu! I’m the groom’s colleague!”  
“You’re a teacher?” asked Asahi, surprised despite himself.  
“P.E.” nodded Nishinoya. “Not much of an intellectual man.”  
“I’m Asah-“  
“I know who you are! Nice speech earlier.”  
Asahi smiled shyly. “I don’t… really like public speaking.”  
Nishinoya cocked his head curiously. “We can’t all be perfect like me I guess!” Asahi chuckled. He didn’t mind standing on a dance floor, if it meant talking to this man made of electricity.

_Hands are only made to be tied_

“Ya know what this wedding’s got me thinking about?”  
“What?”  
“Commitment.”  
“What do you mean, commitment?”  
“Like whether I want to be with the same person for the entire rest of my life.”  
“… Do you?”  
“Yeah.”  
“Good.”  
“Do you?”  
“Mhm.”  
“Thank god. I was thinking you’d be all ‘shut up, Bokuto, this is like a fling thing.”  
“We’ve been dating for two years.”  
“Still could be a fling thing.”  
“It’s not.”  
“Good.”  
Bokuto put his hand on Akaashi’s waist and pulled him closer, making him follow his steps.  
“Love you.”

_Marriage is only made to ease our minds_

Suga looked into Daichi’s eyes and felt the thin band of gold on the hands they had clasped together. And he saw the way his face was filled with so much tenderness and love and like every day, he fell in love again.

_The mind’s the only place to hide_


End file.
